ON The Rocks (An Ozzie Novak Thriller, Book 3) (Redemption Thriller Series 15)

by John W. Mefford

  “Maybe. I’m doing some cross-checking.”

  Part of me wanted to convince her to meet me for a late coffee. In-person conversations usually went better. I could read her body language, and I had a better chance of convincing her to do me a favor. Obviously, though, I couldn’t leave Mackenzie alone.

  “So, you seem to work better when you have someone to bounce ideas off of.”

  A pause. “Maybe. I’m working solo on this for now, though. Damn, they need to hire more detectives. They’re working me to the bone.”

  I took in a breath. “Are you open to dropping by my place for a quick brainstorming session?”

  “You’re tied to your place because of Mackenzie. Good man. Me? I try to avoid my place since I’m shackled to my mother. Geez, I need to get a life.”

  “I know the weather is shitty, but why don’t you grab your laptop and come over here. I can break open a cheap bottle of wine and finally have an adult beverage in my, uh…our apartment.”

  She didn’t respond, but I could hear her shuffling around.

  “You still there, Brook?”

  “I’m packing up my stuff.”

  “Cool.”

  “I bet you didn’t know I was this easy.”

  I snorted.

  “That didn’t come out right. You know I love you, Ozzie. Like a brother. You’re just not my type. No offense.”

  “None taken. See you in a few minutes.”

  “Okay. By the way, I know why you’re doing this little wine-tasting thing. You want me to spill everything. Just be prepared to do the same for me. Deal?”

  I couldn’t say no. “Deal.”

  We hung up, and I went to the kitchen and reviewed the wine options. Two bottles of red: one a cabernet, the other a merlot. Both had twist-off caps. I’d purchased them on sale, two for ten dollars. Nicole would like the cabernet, so I picked up the merlot. I broke the seal, twisted off the top, grabbed two glasses, and set them on the counter.

  I returned to the couch, thought about turning on the TV, hoping to take my mind off everything. But that would never happen. I picked up my phone and rested it against my chin. I thought more about my conversation with Billy. I’d outed the rat, and he knew it. Would he do anything about it? Doubtful. Besides, what could he do?

  But then my thoughts went to what he’d said in his phone conversation. “Brain swelling.” I cringed even thinking about it. Maybe he had a compassionate side. While it shouldn’t matter, the contradiction in behavior still gnawed at me. Did that negate what he’d done to Rosie? Not in the least, but it reminded me that the world wasn’t so black and white, good versus evil. I still needed time with Rosie to review the pictures of Earl and Summer at the hotel. She’d said she had my retainer. Maybe I could just turn over the pictures, receive my payment, and then call it game over. I opened up my phone and reviewed the digital images. I could only manage a quick peek. It was actually pretty gross, seeing a young girl sucking face with an old geezer.

  Maybe Summer and Earl were actually in love, Oz. You’ve seen stranger couples.

  “Actually, I haven’t.”

  My thoughts then landed on Nicole. She’d reminded me today all of the reasons I’d been attracted to her from the beginning. She was spunky, flirtatious, quick as a wink. In more ways than one. If it hadn’t been for her swift thinking at the hotel, I would probably have never known what floor Earl and Summer had taken. Then, when Nicole saw the opening of what she logically thought might be the room next to the gross couple, she’d made her move. She was confident, creative, and knew what she wanted. Me.

  I sighed, but it wasn’t necessarily a sigh of stress. Well, stress was part of it, but not the root cause. I was a little pissed at myself for being so easily lured back into that intimate connection with Nicole—the sex part and everything else that drew me to her. She was either my greatest weakness or my greatest strength. I was still on the fence.

  Three quick raps on the front door. I peeked down the hall to make sure there was no sign of Mackenzie; then I shuffled into the tiny foyer and pulled open the door.

  Before I could utter a word, Rosie, wearing a black trench coat, closed an umbrella and stepped into the foyer.

  “You going to shut the door?” she asked.

  I just stood there, slack-jawed. She grabbed the door and shut it herself.

  “How did you know I lived here?”

  “When you want something bad enough, you figure it out. I’m sure you’ve been there.” She patted my chest twice and walked into the living room.

  18

  “Come on in,” I said with little enthusiasm. My eyes dropped to her toned calves and the four-inch heels. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, the combination was electrifying.

  “You texted me earlier, so I knew you wanted to talk. Earl got shitfaced and fell asleep on the couch. And I was dying to get out of the house. So, here I am.”

  Her face and hair were moist from the rain. But it was her boldness and confidence that caught me off-guard. What happened to the timid, shaken woman I’d known?

  “Are you going to offer me a drink?” she asked, sauntering into the living room.

  You could tell a lot by a woman’s walk. I didn’t even know she could saunter.

  “I know we have business to discuss, but I’m hoping we have something to celebrate.”

  “Well…” I turned to the kitchen, lifted an arm, and then let it drop to my side.

  “I can read you pretty well, Ozzie Novak.” She pivoted and headed for the kitchen. “I’m assuming that your darling little girl is fast asleep?”

  I caught up to her just as she was pouring the wine into the glasses. The wine that I’d saved for Brook. She handed me a glass and then sipped from hers.

  “Looks like you were expecting me.” She popped an eyebrow and then whisked by me back to the living room.

  Who was this person, this new Rosie?

  “Well, I kind of was expecting someone else.”

  She set her glass on the side table, then turned and put her hands at the belt for her coat.

  “Really, I can’t make this a late night. I’m tired and have other cases I need to work. Lots going on.” I feigned a yawn as I held my glass of wine.

  She started at my eyes, then made her way down. “Cal-Berkeley. I didn’t know you went there.”

  I looked at my chest and saw the logo. “Yep.”

  A long nod. “So, you have pictures?”

  She rubbed her hands together as if she couldn’t wait to see them. She was excited. Too excited, in my book.

  I grabbed my phone and thumbed my way to the images. She walked over and leaned against me as I swiped through each of the images. She snatched the phone from my hand, stared at the last picture. I watched her carefully. There was an intensity there, as if she were letting the pain eat her up. Or was there something else going on? I couldn’t tell exactly. She almost seemed to be studying every pixel in the image, as though the reasoning behind her husband’s cheating would appear before her very eyes.

  Then, as if a switch had been flipped, she handed me the phone, her face as relaxed as I’d ever seen it.

  “That cheating bastard.”

  She said the words, but they weren’t emotionally charged. No sadness or anger. Almost delight. Maybe staring at the phone had allowed her to take the next step.

  “Will you forward those to me, please? Just send them to my new phone.”

  I nodded and did as she asked. When I got done, she handed me an envelope. “I think you’ll be quite happy with what’s in there.”

  I felt a wad of cash. I tossed it on the coffee table.

  “You don’t want to count it?” she said with a hint of a smile.

  “I trust you.”

  “What’s on your mind, Ozzie?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. There are a lot of things going through my mind right now. “

  “I’ve been thinking about last night, sitting in the car with you. I felt some
thing there.”

  It was mutual. But was it real, or was it based upon empathy or even pity…for me, at least?

  The lights from the ceiling fan hit her eyes in a way that made her look vulnerable. She looked down, her demeanor suddenly withdrawn. “I hope you understand all the emotions I was experiencing…still am experiencing. All of this has brought back so many memories.” She shook her head, her eyes drifting away. She took in a quivering breath.

  “I’m sorry you’re going through all this, Rosie. Truly. It’s got to be gut-wrenching to see those pictures. You watched someone murdered before your eyes, and you think the man you’re married to might have something to do with it.”

  She bit her lower lip, as if that might keep her tears from pouring out. A second later, she dropped against my chest. Now the tears flowed. I held her but not too tightly. Just enough to let her know I cared.

  “I just don’t know what to do, Ozzie,” she said through sobs. “I wonder what I’ve done to deserve all of this.”

  “You haven’t done anything, Rosie, except somehow end up with the wrong person.” The irony smacked the inside of my head, and I wondered if I’d somehow been fooling myself about Nicole, even after today.

  I found her a box of tissues, and she used one to dab her nose and eyes. “I’m sure I look like Cruella de Vil right now.”

  Actually, she still looked like a million bucks. “Rosie, you’re an attractive woman. You have a good heart. Once you get past all this, I’m sure you’ll find a real gentleman who will treat you like a partner.”

  A smile fought its way to her lips. “I’m a mess,” she said, now chuckling at herself.

  “So, have you made your plans yet?”

  “About?”

  “You know—the bulldog lawyer, going into hiding, and figuring out what you want to do with your life.”

  She didn’t respond, but she appeared to be in deep thought. I took it a step further.

  “Then you can also share everything you know with the cops so they can nail Earl for murdering Stuart Benson.”

  She swallowed, her eyes staring at the floor. I let her be, wondered if she’d start asking me questions about taking those next steps. But that didn’t happen. She picked up her glass of wine. “Let’s toast.”

  Was she deafer than I was? I grudgingly picked up my glass, and she clinked hers against mine.

  “To new beginnings,” she said.

  I reciprocated and took a nice long swig; then I twisted around to set my glass back on the table. As I turned back, my eyes saw a coat drop to the floor. Then I saw her heels. My eyes kept moving up. Legs, more legs, and then…

  “Holy mother of…”

  She was naked, minus the heels. I guess, in this case, calling them “fuck-me pumps” was appropriate. But, at the same time, very inappropriate.

  I went numb and then managed only to stutter, “I…I…”

  With the agility and skills of a ninja warrior, Rosie threw me to the couch and jumped on top me. She gripped my face and kissed me like a woman who hadn’t been loved in ten years.

  When she pulled back for a moment, her eyes were on fire. So was I, to a degree.

  “Did you hear something?” I asked, my mind swirling as if she’d slipped me LSD.

  She pulled off my sweatshirt and clawed at my chest.

  Ouch. Yet, it was also a turn-on. Probably because the centerfold was bumping and grinding on my lap. The dry hump was working its magic.

  A spear of clarity shot into my brain. What if that noise was Mackenzie? Without taking another breath, I dragged Rosie off me, sat her upright, and slipped my sweatshirt over her.

  “Finally, a real man who will—”

  “Shh,” I said while grabbing the throw blanket and tossing it on her. “Pretend you’re asleep.”

  “Dad?”

  Mackenzie padded around the corner, and her eyes got as wide as golf balls. “Oh, I didn’t know you had…” She covered her mouth and looked at me. I was rocking side to side.

  “Where’s your sweatshirt?”

  “Oh, you know I haven’t had a chance to get in a workout with all of this bad weather, so I decided to do some push-ups and sit-ups.”

  Her eyes went back to the couch. A smile cracked her cute little face. “Is that Nicole?”

  “Uh…” My brain froze.

  She turned to the door. “Someone’s knocking on the door this late?”

  I hadn’t heard the knock.

  I glanced at Rosie, who had her eyes pressed shut. It was as though she were playing a dead person on TV.

  As Mackenzie walked to the door, her eyes caught the trench coat on the floor. She looked at me and said, “I’m cool with this, Dad. I’m not a little girl. I know what adults do. I’m happy for you. Really, I am. Can I stay up and finally meet her?”

  I paused another second. I might have grunted.

  She opened the door. “Hi, Mackenzie. You’re up rather late.”

  Shitballs. It was Brook.

  “Hi, Detective Pressler,” Mackenzie said.

  “Call me Brook. I like that name better anyway.” Brook came in and did a two-second observation. “Oh. My. God.”

  Just then, Rosie stretched her arms out as if she’d just awoken. “What time is it?”

  “Rosie, what are you doing here?” Brook sounded like a second-grade teacher, although her glare was that of a judge eyeing us from behind her lofty bench.

  “It must have been the wine,” Rosie said. “Just give me a minute.” She wrapped the throw around her waist, grabbed her coat, and somehow found the bathroom down the hallway.

  “Who’s Rosie, Dad?” Mackenzie looked up at me, confused. “And why is she sleeping on the couch…in your sweatshirt?”

  I put my arm around Mackenzie as Brook gave me a judgmental eye. I tried not to let her presence shake my focus.

  “Listen, sweet pea,” I said, ushering Mackenzie down the hall toward her bedroom, which also allowed me a few extra seconds to try to word my response with a message that wouldn’t set off alarms. “In the PI business, we don’t always work normal hours. And while I have that small office at Gartner Automotive, sometimes clients have real needs at different times of the day and night.”

  She climbed into bed as I held up the covers. She didn’t lie down. She sat there, a hand on her chin, her gaze staring at something on the far wall.

  “You’ve got school tomorrow,” I said, glancing outside her bedroom door, wondering if Rosie and Brook were now talking.

  “Why is this Rosie person wearing your sweatshirt?”

  “She was soaking wet from the rain. I was just about to go put on another shirt when I realized I wanted to get in a workout. It’s all very strange, I know. I’m sorry you had to deal with this. I try to make sure clients just don’t show up at our place, but sometimes they feel a little desperate.”

  She nodded. “So, what’s her case all about?” she asked with far too much excitement.

  “It’s all adult stuff, sweet pea.”

  “Did someone cheat her out of some money? Maybe she’s involved in a conspiracy.”

  “That’s a big word.”

  “I can read, you know.”

  “You’re a very smart girl…who needs to get her sleep.” I winked, motioned with my head for her to lie down.

  She did, and I put the covers over her and gave her another goodnight kiss.

  “So when can I meet Nicole?” she asked just as I’d stepped from the room.

  I was just thankful we were beyond the Rosie topic. “Hopefully, soon. Goodnight, sweet pea.”

  I huffed out a breath, walked by the bathroom—the door was open and the light was off—and then shuffled into the living room. Brook was inspecting a wine glass, holding it by the bottom of the stem.

  “Where’s Rosie?”

  “She left. She was going to stay, but then I started asking her questions about why her husband would want Stuart Benson dead. She got silent and walked out.” She pointed at the
rim of the glass—red lipstick. I looked at her.

  She nodded, smiled. “I guess you didn’t take my advice to watch your back, huh?”

  She sat on the couch while I went to find a shirt.

  19

  I started the process all over again. I opened the cabernet, which, up until an hour ago, had been reserved with Nicole in mind. I had no interest in even looking at the bottle of merlot, so I trashed it. I poured two glasses and handed one to Brook, who’d just stepped into the kitchen.

  She proceeded to inspect the glass. “Looks like I’m safe. No lipstick marks,” she said before taking a sip.

  I smirked.

  “But I didn’t get the same treatment as Rosie. You know, the whole shirtless-waiter thing.” She twirled around and headed for the couch. We both sat down. That was when I realized the T-shirt I’d thrown on—with a faded picture of Lombard Street on the front—was one that Nicole had often slept in. It felt like I was on an emotional seesaw.

  “Seriously, Oz, is your self-control that weak?”

  I started straight ahead and sipped my wine.

  “I mean, I know she’s attractive. Even I can see that. But there’s a lot going on with that woman. She might be depressed or, frankly, trying to rope in her next sugar daddy.”

  I laughed at that comment. “You’ve got to be kidding.” I held up my arm. “Look at what I’ve got going on. This apartment, a nine-year-old daughter. And I’m not exactly rolling in money with me and Nicole living apart.”

  She set her glass on the table. “I don’t want to get into your personal business…” She paused.

  “You were about to say something. Go ahead and say it.”

  She held out her arms. “What about Nicole? I’m sure Mackenzie is confused.”

  “Well…after today, so am I, dammit.” I chugged more wine.

  “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “Yes, but I don’t want to get into it now. I know I need to—”

  “Shit or get off the pot?” She snorted at her own one-liner.

  I tried not to smile, but it wasn’t successful. “Something like that. Can we please turn our attention to the matter at hand?”